


When in Norway

by JessC



Category: Norse Mythology, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: F/M, Freyja - Freeform, Kjartan, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Thor - Freeform, Vikings, if I had a hammer, norse gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessC/pseuds/JessC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's part of a sequel to the book "If I had a hammer" in which an ordinary girl discovers she is the reincarnation of Freyja.<br/>Freyja, the Norse goddess of love, is stuck in the year 800 AD in Scandinavia after a traveling spell went awry. In order to be able to see her husband, Thor, again, after Ragnarök, she is traveling throughout Scandinavia with Kjartan, a skald, to spread the apocalypse's alternate ending to her followers. They have been traveling for a few months with a sled and Reindeer, who Freyja insisted be called Rudolph, and have set up a camp in a Norwegian forest. She has witnessed Ragnarok, and is trying to spread the message of an alternate ending, so she might see her husband, Thor, again. But nothing ever goes quite as planned when you're the Goddess of Love and every Viking is in love with you. As the Arctic dawn is slowly breaking, she begins an impromptu snowball fight with Kjartan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When in Norway

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story like this that I've ever written, mainly as part of a dare with my friend because I'm such a prude, and she, well, isn't! I apologise if it's badly written, but you've gotta start somewhere! Feel free to leave feedback.

The snow was crisp and icy around her fingers. It formed a crunchy ball. She heard Kjartan's footsteps behind a nearby tree. She baited her breath. His boots crunched in the snow; she spun around, ready to fire. She felt Kjartan's warm breath on her face. She hadn't realised how close he was.  
He mirrored her position; he too was holding a large, squishy snowball.  
They remained frozen in their symmetric positions. The tension was palpable; Freyja didn't know what to do. Who would throw first? She held his gaze, as did he. His sparkling green eyes drove right through her She didn't want to back down.  
She had to do something, or who knew how long it would last? She mashed her snowball against his,  and the snow flopped onto the ground. Now they were even. Both as helpless as each other.  
Kjartan's gaze rolled towards their hands. Freyja watched as he slipped his fingers around her own. Her hand as a whole had gone numb from holding the snowball, but nonetheless she felt a spark light it from within.  
She had known, for longer than she was willing to admit, that she was in love with Kjartan. She was certain he felt the same way. But, after all, the only reason she was traveling with him was so that she could see Thor again.  
She focused on their hands, and her head whipped up to face him, her mouth slightly open, as she was about to say something along the lines of “what are you doing?” quite sharply. She had barely said more than: “Kjar-” before he had bent down and kissed her.  
At first, she was surprised. Then, she began to enjoy it somewhat, just before her conscience woke up and overhauled her senses.  
What are you doing? It screamed.  
What about Thor?  
Freyja pulled out of the kiss sharply. Kjartan seemed puzzled, and a hint of disappointment floated over his face.  
She let go of his hand, and dashed through the forest, as sleek and as elegant as a deer, leaving Kjartan standing, confused.  
She ran until she reached the lake where they had collected water that morning. She had left Kjartan a long way behind, so she sat down, and contemplated her crystal refection.  
All around, she was surrounded by snowy mountains. More snow-clouds were gathering, and the water in the lake was black and icy. At least it was lighter now; it had been dark for so long, Freyja felt she would never see the sun again.  
Did it count? He had no idea who she was, and wouldn't for a thousand years or so. She wouldn't be born for another twelve centuries. Did it count as cheating?  
She loved Kjartan dearly; she couldn't help it. When you spend so long with someone, you can't help but either love them or loathe them.  
There would be plenty of time for Thor, an eternity.... But Kjartan? He was only human. He had, what- another 30, maybe 40 years left in him? Freyja wasn't sure what the life expectancy was. Surely, it couldn't hurt. She and Kjartan could enjoy their time together, and Thor would never have to know...  
She began to feel bad for leaving Kjartan behind her, but she heard footsteps running towards her.  
“Freyja! I'm so sorry! Freyja!” he called.  
Freyja turned to her skald. Gingerly, he sat next to her, not getting too close. He tried to catch his breath.  
“I -I'm sorry... I -I should have explained... So-sorry...” he puffed.  
“No, I'm sorry. I just panicked.”  
“I should have just told you...”  
“That you love me?”  
“Yes, that. I should have asked, I didn't mean to-”  
“I love you, too. Don't worry.” she smiled at Kjartan, who was becoming increasingly confused.  
He had much to learn about women.  
“You do?” he raised an eyebrow, wondering which one of them was about to run away this time.  
“I'm sorry. Can't we start again?”  
“Where from?” he asked.  
Freyja took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers.  
Kjartan's thumb stroked the side of her hand as he blushed a deep red to match his hair.  
He cupped his other hand to her face, and kissed her again.  
Freyja allowed herself to enjoy every second of it. His life would be fleeting compared to her own. Every moment needed to be treasured.  
He was kissing her gently, his beard tickling her face, but Freyja returned it with more fervor. She sensed he didn't really know what he was doing. Coyly, her tongue slid into his mouth. She felt him start slightly with surprise, but then he returned the gesture, beginning to get the hang of it. He put his hand around her waist, pulling them closer together, she ran a hand through his red hair, twisting strands of it around her fingers.  
They drew away slightly, partly so Kjartan could get his breath back.  
Freyja was glowing, but Kjartan didn't seem so much shocked as pleasantly surprised to see her do so. He played with a tuft of her hair that ran down her back.  
“I always wondered...” he sighed.  
“Wondered what?”  
“What it would look like, what Freyja looked like, when she looked like a Goddess.”  
“What?” she smiled, and pressed her nose on his.  
The icy air prevented her from feeling much.  
“You; you've looked human, until now. Now I see it. I see what you are. I know what you are.”  
The beauty of a skald is that they were almost never surprised by the actions of the gods. They knew more about the gods than the gods did. They were the gods of the gods. They had created them, they knew their fate. Although Freyja was now somewhere in between skald and goddess.  
Freyja's legs had gone numb from the knees down from sitting in the snow, but she was more accustomed to the cold than she had been at first. It didn't seem as painful.  
“I'd get up to go back to the camp, but my legs are frozen...” she giggled.  
Kjartan stood up, his legs were as shaky as Freyja's felt, and after brushing the snow off them, he offered Freyja his hand. Freyja accepted, but tripped over her limp feet, like a foal learning to walk for the first time.  
She began to wonder how this would affect their journey... They still had many miles to cover until they'd reach the next village, and she couldn't survive out here by herself.  
  
*****  
The next day, the snow fell unashamedly. The wind howled, rushing down from the mountains, only to smack Freyja and Kjartan in the face with iciness.  
It was Freyja's turn to steer the sled, but she mainly let Rudolph do the steering, as he could probably see more than she could. She was cursing the fact that he wasn't the actual Rudolph. A glowing red nose would have been particularly useful.  
But even Rudolph was struggling. Freyja was contemplating stopping for the night (she couldn't tell what time it was, so she felt safer presuming it was night as it was particularly dark), until Kjartan jumped up.  
“I smell smoke! I think there's a village down there!”  
He took hold of Rudolph's reins, and led him down the bank. They were greeted by a long-house with a roaring fire and warm glow.  
Hospitality wasn't usually a problem. For a quick poem, Kjartan could get them most things, from food and drink, to a bed for the night. They ran to a door and began to knock.  
It eventually opened. Behind it stood an old lady, squinting up at them. A fire crackled pleasingly behind her, and the whole room smelled of smoke and food.  
“Yes?” she inquired, eventually.  
“We're travelers, and we need somewhere to stay until this storm eases.” Kjartan explained.  
She stepped back and led him inside, while Freyja tied Rudolph to a nearby tree.  
The house was not particularly large, but it was warm and cosy. A cauldron of broth sat sizzling above the fire.  
“I'm afraid we don't have any money.” Kjartan added.  
The woman spun around.  
“What can you give me in return then?” she snapped.  
“I''m a skald, I can think up a poem for you...”  
She pushed them back outside.  
“No no no no no...What good is some ram-pamby poetry to me? Poetry doesn't put food in my pot!”she continued, “you can sleep in the barn, but don't think you're getting any more than that out of me!”  
She pointed to a shed before slamming the door.  
“Should we go in?” Freyja asked.  
Kjartan shrugged. It looked like this was their only choice. It was shelter and it would stop the constant battle against the blizzard, it would have to do.  
They walked in. It didn't smell of animals as Freyja had expected. She was pleasantly surprised to see that it was used as a store cupboard, with vegetables, fruits, oats and smoked fish.  
“Don't touch the food. I'm sure she's counted every oat.” Kjartan sighed.  
Freyja looked longingly at the baskets of food as she laid down her cloak.  
“We might as well get comfy. And hope this storm passes.” she suggested.  
Kjartan looked across to her. He seemed almost embarrassed, or nervous.  
“Are you alright?” Freyja asked.  
“I'm fine. Really.”  
“You don't look it.”  
He looked at her properly, almost as if looking for something he'd lost.  
“Since yesterday... Oh, I don't know what to think.” he sighed.  
Freyja shuffled herself and her cloak along the wood-chip floor, closer to him.  
“What to think about what?”  
“Us.”  
Freyja looked at him quizzically.  
“If you're having second thoughts, now is the time.”  
He looked at her as if she had suggested suicide.  
“No! Not at all!” he exclaimed, “I suppose- I just can't believe it, is all.”  
He smiled.  
“Try and believe it. Belief makes a lot happen. More than you'd think.”  
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked at her again. He cupped her face in one hand.  
“I believe.” he whispered.  
He looked happy and embarrassed rolled into one, a look he did so well, so often, and that made Freyja's heart melt.  
“But I apologise if I have no idea what I'm doing.” he added with a smile.  
“I'll help you learn. Promise.” Freyja whispered.  
Kjartan looked around the desolate shed.  
“It's not exactly comfortable in here...”  
“It's shelter. It's better than nothing.”  
Kjartan began to look awkward again. The wind howled outside.  
“And it's warmer...” Freyja added.  
He put an arm around her, and she wriggled closer. She put her head on his shoulder. Kjartan swallowed a laugh.  
“This is so strange.” he said.  
“Why?”  
“I never thought... This really feels too good to be true.”  
He pulled her closer again, to face him. She wrapped  her arms around him. She barely noticed that she was half-sitting on his lap.  
“What happens next?” he asked.  
“Whatever you want to happen.”  
He ran a hand through her hair, and she sighed a little. Kjartan smiled at her.  
“Whatever _we_ want to happen, surely?”  
“I'm open to suggestions.”  
She leaned forward, and kissed him, sliding her hands through his hair. He returned it eagerly, running his hands up and down her back. They drew away again. Kjartan looked slightly worried. Freyja stroked his cheek, and he held it to his face.  
“Are you alright?” Freyja asked.  
Kjartan closed his eyes and nodded. He lifted her hand and kissed it. Freyja blushed, and for the first time, felt odd for being the only one in the room who knew what the Hel she was doing. It worried her slightly, but she felt slightly excited at the same time.  
On what was presumably some kind of impulse, Kjartan put his lips to her neck, and kissed her all over her shoulder. Freyja couldn't help wriggling, his five o'clock shadow tickled her. He seemed to enjoy her reaction, and continued, making his way up to her ear. She continued to wriggle, and buried her head, along with her little giggles, in his shoulder. He slid her dress down her shoulder.  
“Not- not like that...” she mumbled, feeling slightly drunk.  
She pulled her heavy, woolen dress off herself, so she was only left in her white tunic and underwear. She smiled as Kjartan's eyes widened slightly. She barely felt the cold, her blood was beginning to run much hotter than normal.  
Kjartan swallowed, but then smiled. He looked at the tunic, Freyja blushed stupidly; he still couldn't reach her shoulder. Not as reluctantly as she would have thought, she removed her tunic, leaving nothing but the knickers she had brought from the 21st century. She felt a quick chill rush over her, but her natural heat soon blotted it out. Kjartan smiled once more, and began kissing her shoulder again, holding her close to him. Freyja made an effort to not let herself shiver, shake and groan; but even when one did slip out, Kjartan seemed to take a certain pleasure from it.  
His kisses trailed over her collarbone, and, blushing as he did so, down on to her chest. He took his time, and Freyja writhed and wriggled, running a hand through his hair, trying to keep a hold on her feelings. He traced over one breast with his lips, hesitating every now and again, while he held the other breast in his hand, and rubbed it gently.  
He drew away again.  
“What's the matter?” asked Freyja.  
He pulled his shirt over his head, and threw it to one side.  
“It's getting hot in here.” he laughed.  
He shuffled to one side, and Freyja helped him take off his boots and trousers.  
Freyja leaned back against the wall. She tried to cool off a little, she was on fire; and very nearly literally... Her glow was illuminating the barn.  
She wasn't sure where Kjartan wanted to go next. His length was hard, and she watched as instinct began to take over. He took advantage of the fact she had moved, and began to run his hands up and down her legs, gently, gently.  
No matter how much instinct took over, he would always be her skald; unable to say boo to a goose. Not a warrior like the other boys of his village. He had no urge to conquer.  
Freyja realised that she was becoming particularly wet; she wondered just how much Kjartan knew about the mechanics of all this. She felt he was learning a lot.  
His hands made their way between her legs, and she opened them compliantly. He looked at her shyly, before smiling slightly as he slid her knickers off. He tossed them aside with the other clothes, and began to run his finger across her clit. He concentrated on every bit of her; this was new to him, but he wanted to understand it all. He watched as she tensed and clutched at the cloak strewn across the floor whenever his fingers flitted over certain places. He watched her wriggle and squirm as he ran a finger up the inside of her thigh. He watched as her chest heaved up and down as her breathing became faster and as her glow became gradually brighter. Impulsively, he bent down, and licked at her clit, making little circular movements, causing Freyja to fully lose her self-control as she reached a climax.  
She sat up again, limply, and guided Kjartan's face to her own. He needed no help this time. He began to kiss her again, harder than before, hungrier than before, and Freyja reveled in it. She could taste herself in his mouth, she felt as if she was being electrocuted where his beard rubbed her face,.  
“Go on...” she sighed.  
He was even harder than before, and guided himself into her. She shivered as he entered, clutching at the furs. He leaned over her, continuing their kiss, and suddenly finding the ability to multi-task. His hips rocked to and fro, faster and faster, harder and harder; Freyja's breathing rose to match it; as his hands made their way back to Freyja's chest. Freyja began to come with little grunts and moans, and it wasn't long before Kjartan began to join her. She bucked her hips and arched her back, letting her feelings get the better of her completely. At last they both came with a synchronised moan and sigh.  
Freyja's glow, which had comfortably lit the shed, began to fade, and she began to feel the cold again. Kjartan wiped the sweat from his brow and joined Freyja in leaning on the wall. He tried to catch his breath.  
Freyja took his hand in hers. It was clammy, but that was hardly surprising given the circumstances.  
“So?” she asked.  
He smiled dumbly and began to laugh and shake his head in a way that meant that he didn't know where to begin. He pulled one of the cloaks over them, as he began to shiver. He put his arms around Freyja and wrapped her in a hug.  
“I love you. Words cannot express just how much I adore you.” he breathed, before kissing her cheek.  
She shivered, and felt a strange urge to cry, but she got a hold on herself.  
“You're a poet... I thought words were your specialty.” she whispered, before letting slip a yawn, which nearly drew more tears than necessary from her eyes. “I love you, too, just so you know.” she added.  
They threw their clothes back on, and slept in each other's arms until the blizzard outside was no more than a heavy blanket of snow, drowning the landscape.  
  
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B8OB20aKMazLYjRUWTJGMmNVNGs/edit?usp=sharing 


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